


And Then What?

by odenkirk



Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 00:32:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18021443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odenkirk/pseuds/odenkirk
Summary: Micky confides in Mike about his interest in anal sex, and it turns into a mutual masturbation session in the kitchen.





	And Then What?

**Author's Note:**

> A second chapter has already been written, but I'm also working on a much plottier, longer Dolensmith AU that I'm more focused on. So I will continue this one if it gets any positive feedback, and likely abandon it in favor of larger projects if it doesn't.

Mike startled a bit when the door of their pad slammed loudly, alerting the sudden and apparently stormy arrival of one Micky Dolenz. Mike had been enjoying the relative silence of having the place to himself, save for the sounds of summer filtering in from the beach. He was sitting at the kitchen table with a notebook in his hand, and had been scratching out a few changes to a song he felt nearly ready to share with the guys. 

But right now wouldn't be the time for that. Not if Micky was fuming. 

"Sorry... didn't mean to close that so hard," Micky offered, but while Mike believed the slam had been an accident, he could tell it had happened because some kind of tension had Mick's body all wound up like springs ready to pop. 

"S'alright. Whassa matter?" He asked over his shoulder as Micky moved through the open space to the kitchen. 

"It's nothing," Micky said, a bit uncharacteristic, in Mike's opinion. Micky wasn't usually the type to brood or keep a secret. 

"Alright," Mike conceded. It wasn't normal for Micky to hold back, but even less so for Mike to prod where he wasn't wanted. If Micky wanted to talk about it, Mike thought he had done his job as a friend in making it clear that he could. 

"It's just...." Micky started, as if on cue from the thoughts in Mike's head. 

"Yeah?" Mike asked, to show that he was listening. 

"I've been seeing this girl," Micky began, and Mike watched as he rounded the kitchen with a glass of orange juice, joining Mike at the table and sitting across from him. "And I've knocked boots with her a dozen times."

"Knocked... you knocked boots," Mike echoed, a bit of teasing in his tone. It wasn't entirely foreign for the four of them to talk about their sex lives with one another, but perhaps uncommon enough for them not to be entirely sure on how to go about it. 

"Shut up, yeah, we knocked boots, alright?" Micky said with a bite of bite in his tone, and Mike understood that this wasn't supposed to be a funny story. He nodded to show that he was listening. 

"And then about a week ago, I said... you know..." Micky paused a bit, but Mike could see that his brain was working hard at putting together the words he wanted to say. "I said, I'd really be down to...." he trailed off again, glancing up at Mike's eyes and then back down into his cup of juice. "To try anal with her, you know?"

Mike felt his cheeks flush so fast that it tore across his shoulders and neck along the way, but still, he nodded. 

"I just think it's groovy, you know. A lot of people are getting really into it. All this free love and, you know, the hedonism and all that," Micky explained, quoting something they'd learned from an article about what was being called the modern counter culture, something they'd been amused to find that they fit into. "And I wanna... do it, you know. And she said yes, she did. She said she yes. Last week," Micky explained, and Mike thought he could foresee now where this was going. 

"So today, I had my hand up her skirt. And I was touching... you know... the normal stuff," he recounted shyly, and Mike was surprised and a bit shocked to be getting a narration of something so personal. "And then I started touching... the not so normal stuff," he continued, and Mike swallowed against the growing tightness in his throat. "And she moved away and got really mad at me. Like really, really mad at me. And she called me a deviant. I'm not a deviant!" Micky exclaimed, and Mike felt the weird threat of arousal within himself melt into a protective nature to comfort Micky. He understood then that the girl had hit a chord with him. 

"No, Mick, you're not a deviant. You're right, a lot of people do that these days," he agreed, even though he wasn't really certain about it. It sounded like something that could probably be correct, at least. 

"But she thinks I'm a total pervert for wanting that, and I don't think she ever wants to see me again now," Micky explained. "And it makes me feel... angry, because she said yes. I wouldn't have done anything if she hadn't said yes, but she made it out like she never did that. Why would she do that?"

"I don't know, Mick. Maybe she got scared," Mike offered. He certainly had no experience with this personally; apparently even less than Micky did. But it didn't seem like it had to be a learned experience to know that the concept of anal sex was kind of out there.

"Scared? Of what? I've been really good to her," Micky defended, and Mike lifted both hands off the table to show surrender and that he meant no harm. 

"Not of you. Of your... in her..." he tried to explain vaguely, not really sure how to openly talk about his best friend and a total stranger in ways he didn't think best friends and strangers should be talked about. But Micky looked charmingly blank to the unfinished statement, and Mike rolled his shoulders to steel himself.

"Of your, you know.... in her ass." He said softly. "I think it would hurt a lot. And if she's never done it, then it's kind of... I don't know, doesn't that kind of make it like losing her virginity for the first time again? It's big," he reasoned quietly. 

Micky nodded as he picked at a bit of the enamel on the table where it had been chipping since they day they'd found it. 

"It's not that big," Micky replied a bit bashfully. "Maybe seven inches when it's hard, I don't know."

Mike's eyes widened as a grin split across his face, amused and embarrassed and endeared by the way the wires had crossed here.

"Well, uh.... I meant the idea of it is big. But... thanks for the stats," he teased. 

Micky looked up quick enough to make his curls bounce, and Mike had to laugh at the sheepish surprise on his face. 

"Oh." Micky huffed, and Mike was still grinning. 

"But," Micky started again, and the storm cloud returned over him. "I would have been gentle. She shouldn't have been scared of me."

"Mick, come on, now. You know it's not about that. It's... no matter how gentle you would have been, it still would have been something really... foreign and new. You know damn well that that's scary even if you're with your closest friends," Mike tried to explain the way he saw it. He didn't know this girl from the next one, but he felt pretty sure that the average human reaction to getting seven hard inches of anything up their ass was universal.

"No, I don't think that's true," Micky argued. "I'd feel safe with you," he said very sincerely, so sincerely in fact that it made Mike take pause. He wasn't quite sure where to go with that. 

"Alright..." he began, shifting in his seat to face Micky more head on. "You're telling me that if I was... with you, and I said Mick, I wanna... do anal with you, you'd just say yeah, sure?" He asked with a bit of a strain to his voice. 

Micky's eyes took on the lack of light that often occurred when he was having the kind of idea that could only be classed as wicked. "I'd say, well Michael, do you want to put yours in mine, or mine in yours?" He asked, and for someone who claimed not to be a deviant, he sure looked devious.

"Mick," Mike huffed and shook his head, looking down at his lap after deciding looking into Micky's eyes was a mine field. "Mine in yours."

He looked up just enough to see Micky shifting in his seat a bit, squirming as if he couldn't quite remember how to sit properly.

And then came a question.

"Would you use your fingers first?" He asked quietly, and the change in his tone told Mike that something here had shifted, he just wasn't quite sure where it was going. His mouth felt dry as he started to accidentally imagine the scenario; Micky laid out in front of him with his legs spread. His hole waiting for Mike's attention. 

"Well. I, I..." Mike tried to choke some words out, but his brain felt like it was melting down into the rest of his body as heat crept through his limbs and torso. "Of course," he decided. That seemed like it was probably the right way to start.

They sat in silence for what was likely no more than five seconds, but it felt like full minutes as Mike's mind raced through images and ideas he was sort of ashamed but also excited to be having. Micky's eyes were locked on him confidently, and Mike didn't know if that made it better or worse.

"Would you use lube?" Micky asked, and for a second Mike wondered what the hell kind of question that was. He didn't think it was a possibility that Micky actually thought he might say that he wouldn't. So why ask it, anyway? 

But then the pieces started to fall into place, as Mike looked over Micky's face and saw the storm cloud had disappeared. They weren't discussing the reality of the situation Micky had met with his girl anymore. 

They were building a fantasy together, between the two of them. 

Mike's toes curled in his shoes as his felt his cock grow warm and heavy between his thighs. His jeans were tight enough to keep it from standing, but they also spread a taught pressure across his lap that almost made him whimper. 

Micky's lips were parted as they sat looking at each other, and an almost imperceptible nod from Micky let Mike know that he wasn't imagining this. 

"Yes," he said, and the word came out as a whisper. He cleared his throat and spoke up a bit. "I would use a lot of it. So that my fingers were... very wet. Very slippery," he assured, and he had to lean back in an effort to give his quickly hardening cock some space to fill out. 

He watched as Micky shifted again, and his heart flipped in his chest when he saw one of Micky's hands disappear under the table, the motion of his shoulder and the angle of his arm making it clear without question that Micky was touching himself through his pants while he looked at Mike. 

"And then...?" Micky asked, and Mike could hear a tremble in his voice. He felt transparent and naked under Micky's rapt gaze, but couldn't figure out how to break it. He imagined that Micky was squeezing and caressing his hard dick under the table, and it put them in a weird uncharted territory, but as much as it made Mike's heart slam in his pulse points, it also added the comfort of not being able to misread the situation.

it gave Mike a bit of confidence.

He forced his eyes away from Micky to look at the clock on the wall. If all went according to plan - which it rarely did, but Mike was too turned on to think entirely rationally - Davy and Peter wouldn't be back for at least an hour. 

They had time. And they could do this.

Mike turned his focus back to Micky and dropped his own hands to his waist, starting to unbuckle himself. 

"And then," he started, feeling nervous. He'd never even done this with someone he was dating, much less a friend. A male friend, at that. But he was getting horny, and he wanted to do it. And for the time being, that seemed like good enough reason to go for it.

"And then I would tell you to lay on your back and spread your legs for me," he chanced. It felt like the scariest choice of words he'd ever spoken aloud in his life, but he was rewarded for his risk when Micky softly groaned and Mike heard his zipper.

"Ah... yeah, okay. I'd do that. I'm spread for you, Mike," Micky trembled, and Mike was almost breathless as he realized Micky was properly jerking himself off now. He imagined Micky's cock in his hand, bare and hard and dripping just out of sight below the table, and Mike's own hands rushed to open his pants up and get a hand on his own aching dick.

"Good lord," Mike grunted out as he squeezed himself and started to stroke up and down. He forgot for a minute that this was a game that worked in turns, and it was his now. He could barely form coherent thoughts about what was happening in reality, much less what could be happening in their shared fantasy, but he persisted.

"I want, I wanna... touch it," he said kind of vaguely, realizing he was still succumbing to being shy about the situation. That made no sense anymore, not when they were both jerking their cocks four feet apart from one other, getting off on the fantasy of Mike in Micky's ass. It made no sense anymore to be hesitant. 

"I wanna touch your asshole, Mick," he allowed, feeling his cock throb in his hand as he said it. "With my wet fingers, I'll rub your asshole."

Micky whimpered loudly as he slumped a bit in his chair. "Yeah, Mike... so wet," he panted, and Mike leaned forward a bit, his body starting to ride the mounting pleasure. 

"Take my fingers inside you, babe," he instructed, sort of only faintly allowing the picture to form in his mind. The reality of the scene in front of him was hotter than any fantasy he could conjure. Micky's forehead was gaining a sheen of sweat, and his skin was flushed a delicate pink. Mike imagined that his cock was probably a deepening shade of it in his hand, and he had to lick his suddenly dry lips at the thought of it. 

"Put 'em in me," Micky begged, and Mike grunted loudly at the way Micky's long lashes grazed his cheeks when he closed his eyes. He wondered if Micky was imagining Mike over him, pushing his fingers into Micky's tight ass. 

"Mick... you gotta," Mike groaned, almost a whine as his hand worked his dick hard and fast. "You gotta take my dick. Please, babe."

"Take it where," Micky demanded, and the surety of his tone made it easy for Mike to answer.

"In your ass." Mike said, a low growl.

"Say it again," Micky begged, and Mike's forearm was starting to ache with the repeated motion of stroking himself so hard. 

"I want you to spread your legs. And take my hard dick. Up. Your. Ass," he panted, his words punctuated by soft grunts.

"Fuck yes," Micky breathed out roughly, leaning back in his seat so far that was barely still seated in it. "Ah, Mike. Give it to me. Hard, baby," he pleaded, and Mike had to squeeze himself hard enough to cause a bit of pain, to prevent himself from coming right there and then. 

"I'll give it as hard as you can take it," he said boldly. "I'll fuck you good, Mick."

"Ungh, damnit. Yeah," Micky was panting to the extent of having difficulty forming words. "Screw my ass, Mike."

"I'll screw it, baby. And I'll come in it, too," Mike promised roughly. 

That seemed like something Micky wanted to hear, and Mike watched as Mick's whole body tensed as if it'd been inflated. 

"Fuh, yeah, come in my ass. Do it right now, Mike," he pleaded, and Mike was heated by the sudden return of the eye contact.

He watched Micky as Micky watched him, and together they rode the waves of orgasm over their shared fantasy. Mike's come splashed through his fingers and onto the lap of his jeans, but it felt too good to worry about the mess as his dick twitched through it for what felt like an eternity. 

Micky had slumped hard in his chair and was panting, the curls around his forehead damp with sweat and his eyes half lidded as he caught his breath. 

Mike felt warm and pliant, satisfied but still turned on to be seeing his friend in a new way. Micky was beautiful, and Mike couldn't imagine ever again preferring thoughts of anyone but Micky during his alone time.

The quiet was starting to get a little awkward and uncertain again as they cooled down and caught their breath, the drunkeness of lust fading into a realization of what they'd just done.

"Man... we gotta do that more often," Micky piped in finally, and Mike felt his brows raise in surprise. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting to happen after this; an awkward avoidance for a few weeks, a crisis of sexuality, the downfall of The Monkees, perhaps.

But no.

It had been good. For both of them, Mike thought.

And so, he nodded.


End file.
